


Sailed Away

by Reikukaja



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Explicit Language, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Wakes & Funerals, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 14:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reikukaja/pseuds/Reikukaja
Summary: [SnK manga spoilers up to chapter 106]It's been some time since Hitch has had a funeral to attend.These things have a way of bringing back the past.





	Sailed Away

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SnK Positivity Week Day 3: Character Positivity Day - because Hitch is wonderful and I've never tried writing her before.

It almost seems like a mockery... That a day like this one could be just so beautiful.  

A day so full of sadness and loss and grief has no business being this bright and green. 

The clouds are perfect in an otherwise crystal-clear sky. They’re white, fluffy cotton pillows on an azure blue canvas that is straight out of a picture book.   

 They’re the kind of clouds that you can lay in the grass and watch, letting your imagination run wild. 

 _Is that a rabbit? No... a duck._  

 _Is that a face I see in that one?_  

 _Oh,_ _and there’s a sailboat..._  

It’s a children’s game, but even adults can find comfort in it sometimes. 

Hitch does too, but she closes her eyes now and forces herself to listen to the names being read aloud. Eight names – all of whom she was at least familiar with. People whose hands she had shaken, who she had worked alongside on occasion, despite being in a different branch of the military.  

“These eight brave souls sacrificed their lives across the sea, so that we might have a chance to survive going forward.” 

The singing of birds is all that can be heard aside from the lone speaker. Not a dirge, but a light and happy tune that could almost be described as a melody. It is ceaseless. Unending. Happy to be alive. Vibrant. Joyous. Ready to experience another day. 

 _It’s really fucking insensitive, given the setting._  

“They are heroes,” the speaker finishes.  

 

The service ends, and people start to mingle. They wander about the eight fresh tombstones that mark their fallen friends, family, and comrades. They pay their respects. They share stories. They laugh. They cry.  

This really isn’t Hitch’s scene.  

She’s got other places to be anyway. It’s been a long time since she’s been here. 

 

 _What a beautiful, shitty day._  

 

Now that she thinks about it though, inappropriately beautiful days are something she is at least somewhat familiar with. 

Because  _that_ morning was beautiful too. 

Hitch remembers it clearly, because she’s not a morning person. She never was. She still isn’t. She probably never will be. 

She’s never up that early... early enough to see the sun rise.  

She saw it rise  _that_  day, though... possibly because she’d been tossing and turning in bed all night, and she’d finally given up when the first signs of color began to stain the sky through her bedroom window. 

It wasn’t the first sunrise she’d ever seen, but it  _felt_ like the first.  

Being a self-declared romantic, Hitch had always liked sunsets. Sunsets are dark, warm, colorful. They signal the start of the evening. Evenings are supposed to be the time for romance or something. 

She’d never appreciated a sunrise like that before. 

It felt like the start of something new. 

A beginning. 

And it was beautiful.  

It filled her with such hope and resolve.  

 _When he gets back, I’ll tell him._  

 _Then maybe he will think twice about his decision to join the Survey Corps._  

 _Maybe then he will stay with me. In the Military Police._  

 _And we could be safe. Maybe we could even together._  

 _‘There’s plenty of good you can do in the Military Police now’_ , she’d planned on telling him.  

 _‘Things can be made better, now that the coup was successful.’_  

 _‘We need people like you.’_  

 _‘You can make a difference here.’_  

She sat there, admiring what felt like her very first sunrise. She let herself be swept up in the promise of it – the hope for the future. 

Hitch wondered what he was doing in that moment.  

She concluded that he was probably doing something that was  _very_  Marlowe, scolding someone for slacking off or yawning when they should be alert. He was probably pissing  _someone_ off.  

She laughed... hard.  

She laughed, because in that moment he was someone else’s problem... 

And all she wanted was for him to be  _her_ problem again. 

She looked forward to it.  

She started to think of the things she might say.  Would she need to say anything?  

Maybe if she was the first one to greet him when they return. Maybe if she leapt into his arms, squealing with joy at their reunion. Maybe then he would get it.  

She snorts. 

 _No, not Marlowe. Way too dense._  

Maybe if she kissed him? 

Hitch stopped laughing. She rested her elbows on the table and cradled her cheeks in her palms. 

She hadn’t been able to see her own face in that moment, but she felt it heat against her hands. 

And she smiled to herself as she watched that sunrise.  

 

 _She’d been so damn naïve._  

 

Hitch makes her way through the cemetery. She notes the names engraved on all of the stones she passes, almost all of which are unfamiliar. Sometimes she notes the years of birth and death, to determine how old a given person was when they met their end. Sometimes she imagines what their personality was like. She wonders what they did for fun, or what kind of jokes they told.  

It’s just a distraction, probably. It’s just something to pass the time and keep her mind occupied until she gets to where she’s going. 

She has walked a good distance from the main group of people attending the service when she comes across someone sitting alone on one of the benches that line the cemetery walkways.  

 _Mikasa,_ she realizes when she sees the telltale red scarf wrapped around the girl’s neck.  

Hitch thinks it might be best to leave her alone. She’s probably out this far for a reason, but she approaches her anyway. 

"I couldn't deal with being around everyone right now," Mikasa explains as if she were asked, as soon as Hitch is close enough to hear. "But I didn't want to miss the service. So... I sat here and listened.” 

Hitch doesn’t say anything but looks back toward the crowd of people in the direction she’d come from. 

“I'll say goodb-” Mikasa stops, offended by her own words.  “I’ll pay my respects privately when everyone else has left.” 

"I feel ya," Hitch agrees. "We've been to enough of these things...” 

Mikasa nods slightly but doesn’t reply. 

 “But we went a nice long chunk of time without needing any, right?" Hitch forces a smile that she knows cannot possibly look genuine.  

A couple seconds of silence pass between them, and Hitch glances over to where Mikasa is sitting. Her face is contorted in pain. She's crying. 

She has never seen Mikasa Ackerman cry.  

"Woah woah woah- hold up," Hitch gasps, and quickly takes a seat beside Mikasa, The two of them had never been really close, but they had respect for each other. Hitch drapes her arm around Mikasa's shoulder, and pulls her in as close as she can.  "I've got you, Mikasa." 

Mikasa doesn't fight Hitch's embrace, but welcomes it. She turns her face into her companion's shoulder and she begins to quake as sobs violently tear through her body.  

"Yeah yeah...  I completely agree," Hitch says, stroking Mikasa's hair in an attempt at comfort. "This world is complete shit.”  

"Does... does it ever get easier?" Mikasa asks in barely a whisper. 

She doesn't need to elaborate. They both know what she means by  _it._  

Loss.  

Hitch opens her mouth to speak. But what does she say?  

 _No. Kind of. You get accustomed to it. You learn to live with it. There's a giant hole left in you that nothing can ever fill. You'll always wonder. Especially about the maybes._  

She sighs and looks at the ground.  

"It does... sort of... but it never really goes away."  

"No," Mikasa whispers in agreement. "It would feel wrong for it to ever go away."  

The two women sit there for several minutes in comfortable, companionable silence.  

“You don’t need to stay with me,” Mikasa says gently after the tears have ceased. “You looked like you were going somewhere when you found me.” 

Hitch sighs. She supposes there’s no harm in telling Mikasa. 

"It's actually been a while since I've been out here..." She explains. "So... I thought I might... go see him." She shrugs and says this with her usual nonchalance. It’s no big deal. It’s nothing. 

Mikasa blinks and nods. The corners of her lips turn up slightly in a sad but comforting smile.  

“You should go,” she says kindly. “Thank you for sitting with me, Hitch.” 

Hitch manages to smile back at Mikasa and gives her one more good squeeze before getting up from their bench.  

“No prob,” she grins. “Take care of yourself Mikasa.” 

“You too,” Mikasa answers and Hitch turns around to resume her journey across the cemetery. 

 

She doesn’t have that far to walk, but all of these tombstones look the same. She goes slow so she doesn't miss the one she’s looking for. 

And then she finds him. 

It. 

It looks the same as it did the last time she visited. Which makes sense. It’s a tombstone... not like it’s going to grow any bigger. It’s not like the name inscribed on the cold grey stone is going to change. 

 _Marlowe Freudenberg_  

"I know I haven't visited in a while... I'm sorry about that...” Hitch shuffles her feet in the grass.     
“You wouldn't believe how busy we've been." 

They  _had_  been busy. The world had become a much bigger place than it had seemed four years ago. Marlowe would have loved to hear about it. 

“I was just in the neighborhood,” she grins. “Thought I would stop by and see how you’re doing.” 

She doesn’t know why she’s talking like this. There’s no one around to judge her. She can be real here. 

"There's this dream I used to have," she whispers. "After you died I mean. I never told you about it because I’m just as big of a coward as you probably thought I was. You’re dead, and I’m still too afraid to tell you shit."  

She steps forward and runs her fingers across the smooth, cold surface.   

“Anyway... I had the dream again... probably because of Sasha and the others...” 

She crouches down and rests her back against the stone.  

"One where you make it home... where you survived."   

She sighs.  

It’s the worst fucking dream, because she knows she did it to herself... that morning. She let her imagination get the better of her. She let her hopes run wild. She’d decided to let her guard down... and so the dream was born. 

Hitch looks back up at the clouds. She tries to find the sailboat she saw earlier, but it’s long gone.  _Sailed away._  

_Maybe it sunk._

“I let myself want it.” 

She rests her eyes. She soaks up the silence for several minutes - silence, and those blissfully inconsiderate birds.  

The truth is, it still feels so fucking weird to acknowledge that he’s gone... that he’s not off pissing somebody off with his strict adherence to some  _code._  

Sometimes she imagines that this was all a joke. She can never see him again, but he’s alive. Somewhere. Just not here. Never here again. 

It makes it easier some days, if she believes that instead of the truth. 

 

"I still think of that morning every day, you know."  

"I was awake really early for some reason. I couldn’t sleep, so I just got up crazy early. The way you always told me I should.... some coffee probably would have helped that morning.”  

What a wonderful discovery coffee had been.  

“Oh, you probably don’t know what coffee is,” Hitch laughs. “It's another one of those things new things we got when we made contact with the world outside the walls.  It's kinda like tea... except it's made with ground up beans instead of leaves. It’s  _really_ bitter though. You would have hated it. I hated it at first... but it's grown on me.” 

 _Kind of_ _like you._  

“A lot of the people here seem to like it," she finishes. 

She sits there for a moment thinking about all of the new things she enjoys that Marlowe would be amazed by. There had really been so much change these last four years.  

If only he’d survived to see it... 

"You ... wanna know a secret?"  Hitch asks after a moment, and she laughs because she realizes that she’s actually waiting for an answer. She’s talking to a  _ghost_... and waiting for an answer.  

"I thought you might be the one I’d marry someday. Maybe."  

She smirks. This is okay.  

"I didn't even think we'd really get along when we first met.” 

She exhales loudly, drawing it out. 

“You insisted you were different from those  _MP fools who only think of themselves,”_ she giggles quietly, remembering his rage _. “_ It was so annoying. _"_  

Hitch smiles and continues laughing softly to herself. She grips the lapels of her jackets and pulls it tighter around herself.  She imagined the faces he'd be making to her telling him all of this. It's easy to picture. Even after four years, she still remembered all of his expressions. She’d made fun of him often enough for them. She was always good at giving him shit.  

She was good at a lot of things, actually. You don’t get accepted into the Military Police without being pretty good at  _something._  But of all the things Hitch was good at, she was  _best_ at giving Marlowe shit.  _Constantly._  

 _"_ But it turned out that you actually  _were_ different. You always talked about the way things  _should_ be. You had your own vision of what the world was supposed to be like... how things should work. Right and wrong. All that other crap you went on and on about that I always shrugged off."  

More laughter quietly bubbles out of her. A tear escapes from where it had been welling up in the corner of her eye. Just one tear. She’s not crying. 

“Maybe you’re better off this way,” she sighs. “Dead. In the ground. Gone. Better than still being here right? Better than having to put up with me for the rest of forever.”  

Hitch tilts her head and smiles.   

"You probably could have guessed this... but I always wanted a big wedding. A huge party. A celebration with lots of drinking and dancing. I was one of those little girls who dreamed of their wedding for as long as I'd known what weddings were. I'd be a princess for a day and I'd marry my prince. Everyone I know and love would be there. My parents would be so damn happy. They think no one could ever tolerate my bitching enough to actually  _marry_ me."  

When did her cheeks become so wet? She’s not crying or anything. 

"You handled it pretty well though. Somehow. I don't know how you did. Gosh... I was awful then...." 

 _'You were never that bad,'_  she can almost hear him say. It was what he would say. Definitely. 

"but oh... yeah... my parents would have loved you." 

She leans her head back against the stone.  Inhaling is hard.  

"You would have gotten along so fucking well with my dad, too. He irritates me the same way you did. Maybe you reminded me of him. Isn't that something people say – that girls tend to like guys who remind them of their dads? I think I heard that somewhere..."  

Breathe.  

"He'd have loved to call you his son. I probably told you... but I'm an only child. You know what that means right?” she snickers and she feels her face redden.  “Hah. That means that as soon as we got married, my mom would be asking for daily reminders on the status of any future grandchildren. "  

 _God that would have been so annoying._  

"You would have blushed like such a fucking dork. Even if we were married.  _Like... come on Marlowe. We're married, no reason to get so damn awkward."_  

Why could she see all of this so clearly. Why is this fantasy life of hers so vivid and rich? It’s so beautiful though.  

And so cruel.  

 _"_ Mom would have tried to coerce you by telling you all about how cute  _I_ was as a baby. She'd probably avoid telling you about how difficult and problematic I was though. How I cried through the night for so many months. How she and dad forgot what a good night's sleep felt like. She definitely wouldn't have told you about my nasty toddler phase,” Hitch snorts.  “I was a brat back then too, but you probably wouldn't need to be told that. You would assume that anyway, I'm sure. You know me well enough."  

You  _knew_ me well enough. 

"You would have loved to hear all of the embarrassing stories of my childhood though. Your favorite would probably be the time that my parents left me alone for five minutes with a pair of scissors,” she giggles. “I wish there was a way to  _show_ you the atrocity I committed against my hair. Mom still jokes that that's why I wear my hair so short now. You would have  _died_ laughing."  

She doesn't really know where she's going with this. She didn't really have a plan when she came here either. She was never really one for planning. That was something  _he_  was better at. 

"We never really talked about kids or the future or anything... but you seemed like the kind of guy who really looked forward to fatherhood. You were born for it, honestly... With that great scowl of yours.... that shit could scare the bad behavior our of pretty much anyone.”  

He would have been _such_ a  _dad._  

“I'd have totally been the cool parent though, don't you  _dare_ start thinking otherwise..." 

This is only what  _might have been_ , she knows... just a former maybe... what  _never will be._ But damn it feels so real sometimes.  And it feels so good... until it starts hurting. And it always starts hurting.  

"I think... we would have been happy. Maybe."  

She doesn't think. She knows. She’s definitely not crying. 

"I would have driven you up a fucking wall. You know how I get. You would have irritated the shit out of me. We would have gotten under each other's skin. All. The. Time. We would have fought. A lot. A  _tonnn_. But I kinda liked fighting with you. I knew you'd always have my back afterwards. Always. No matter how awful the things I might have said to you would be." 

… 

"We would have been so damn happy." 

Hitch's chest rattles with the effort of keeping herself composed. She breathes. She’s not going to cry. 

... 

"You're such an asshole,” her voice cracks. “I can't believe you went and got yourself killed." 

“You were so damn irritating when you were alive...” Hitch whispers scornfully and sniffles. “Of course I can’t get a break, even if you’re dead.”  

Hitch clenches her fists and squeezes her eyes shut tight. She inhales as best she can. 

"Just a pompous, headstrong, stuck up, annoying, irritating, stupid, blockheaded, frustrating, awkward, honest, willful, ardent, determined, tenacious, brave, selfless, wonderful fucking asshole." 

She swears she isn’t crying, but she chokes out a sob and the floodgates open.  

… 

"I miss fighting with you."  

And she really did. It made her grow. It made her become better.  

He put her in her place. He made her see how she could improve.  _He_ made her  _better_. 

… 

“I’m so lonely now, you know?” she croaks. “I was never lonely before. Never a day in my life.” 

She laughs and cries at the same time.  

“What a shit thing to say. I know. I am  _just so great_  that I had no idea how it felt to be lonely. Always surrounded by friends. It wasn’t as if I ever had a problem making any. I’m pretty easy to like.” 

 _How_ _narcissistic_ _am I? Jeez Hitch._  

“But now... I’m lonely all the time.... and it doesn’t matter how many new friends I make. And I make plenty,  _I promise.”_  

He would laugh at that, she’s pretty sure. He’d probably roll his eyes too, and jokingly tell her she needs to tone down the modesty. She’d tell him to shut up. 

"Maybe... I just...miss  _you,_ " she finally admits. 

... 

"So much." 

… 

" _Marlowe_." 

... 

“I miss you so fucking much. Your annoying sense of justice. That stupid fucking haircut. The way you laughed at my most horrible jokes and berated me for how tasteless the rest of them were.” 

 _I'll always be sorry._  

 _I'm sorry I never told you anything..._  

 _“You had_ _my heart..._ _You know?”_  

 


End file.
